


Tête-à-Tête

by Bbanimal



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Architecture porn, Drunken Flirting, Explicit Sexual Content, Older Man/Younger Woman, Older Sansa Stark, Political Campaigns, Political Intrigue, Smut, Stark Children are Alive and Well
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:21:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25036144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bbanimal/pseuds/Bbanimal
Summary: While the neck-and-neck PM campaign has been taking up most of her days and nights, Sansa is taking a couple liberties - despite the prospect of it completely ruining her career and reputation.Petyr and Sansa begin an intense sexual liaison.
Relationships: Petyr Baelish/Sansa Stark
Comments: 6
Kudos: 42





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> Holy crap! I looked at my last post and it was four years ago... Anyway, here’s a little something - I’ve been writing on and off since March because of... well, you know. But I hope everyone can enjoy. Thank you!

_Two Months Until the Election..._

She was tired, it was late - nearing two in the morning. Her head leaned against the car headrest, eyes closed, allowing herself to be gently rocked by the moving town car. Her arms were crossed in a weak attempt to stop herself from looking at her phone. She had told herself to give it two hours, give herself a little quiet time. It would prove to be a challenge the entire car ride.

Sansa never allowed herself to leave an event early. _They always arrived, and left together_. A large focus of the campaign was family, presenting themselves as a cohesive front against the incumbent _._ A re-establishment of the Stark image. _Strength in numbers_ , _the pack survives_. The evening had gone on longer than she would have liked, but was in no position to complain. It had been successful, exceeding fundraising goals and, most importantly, Robb had secured an endorsement from the lumber and fishing unions. It had been a raucous atmosphere - with friendly toasts in between the inspiring speeches of a promise for a renewed focus on public healthcare, increased trade protections for the laborers hard won profits. The night had concluded with an impromptu dance party started by the band, leaving everyone hopeful and in high spirits. Sansa was sure her mouth hurt from smiling too much and her throat sore from yelling over the cheering crowd; she was mentally exhausted from the continuous stream of calls, the constant updates to the team, and from the entertaining of donors that seemed to approach Sansa in quick succession. 

A Signal text has come earlier in the evening, a welcome distraction from the photographers and the press. Moments before she had stepped aside for a quick update on the donation figures and, to give a final sign-off on several website changes, all while keeping an eye on Robb and Roslin; the Communications Director was currently busy assisting the interns so Sansa knew she might have to step in and diffuse. As their photos were being taken, reporters continued to barrage them with inquiries, ranging from the questioning of Robbs policy platforms to where Roslin wanted to deliver their first child. Feeling her phone vibrate she opened the notification with a knowing smile. 

**“Come to my place afterwards. Nightcap?”**

Sansa gave a quick scan of the crowd and bit her lip, wanting to think of an appropriate response. It was hard not to play coy where he was concerned. 

**“I suppose so. But I don’t know when - It might be too late for you.”**

**...**

**“You know as well as I do, sleep isn’t really an option - for either of us.”**

**— “and I will ignore the presumably agegists remarks”**

She allowed herself a tiny smile. 

* * *

The success of the evening would do nothing to stop the grueling pace of the campaign; it would all reset again by 7:30am tomorrow. 

The car came to its final stop of the evening. Waiting a few seconds and with a deep breath she opened her eyes. 

“We’re here Miss Stark.” 

“Thank you again James and have a good night.” 

Her heels clicked loudly against the pavement, soon echoing as the concrete gave way to marble and glass. The doorman gave her a knowing nod and silently opened one of the doors at her approach. Normally she would have slowed her pace in the lobby, to eye the two leather sofas and area rug that were dwarfed by the poured concrete walls and large ornate light fixtures but tonight, she was too tired to care. The elevator opened at her arrival and with a muted click the doors had shuttered. _Up to the penthouse level_. Knowing it would be a slow climb she leaned against the polished rails, eyeing the view of downtown through the mechanisms and glass as she rose higher. The low hum of the elevator was soporific in her state of exhaustion. Soon she would reach her destination so with a slight shake of her head and hands she straightened herself, tugging at her dress to relieve any unseemly bunching; gently running her fingers through her hair to remove any tangles. The task of reapplying lipstick and scent had already been done in the car. She didn’t want to appear too eager to please if he had decided to watch the live security feed of her ascension. _This little performative action would be enough_. The doors slid open and once again her heels sounded against the polished floors, herself walking towards the large black door twenty feet ahead. With her hand reaching for the cool metal handle, she gave it a tug and opened it quietly.

Hearing the click behind her, she walked down the dim hallway, moving aside as not to brush the entryway table for she found its rough hewn sides would snag at her clothes. Ignoring the french doors to her left she knowingly walked through the archway into the main living area; the lights dimmed, a dying fire in the grate throwing shadows onto the empty furniture. The large cantilevered glass doors were open, with the sounds of the city heard but merely a hum at this height. Setting her clutch on the dark stone countertop, smiled at the bottle of wine set nearby already uncorked, a clean glass neatly placed beside it. Pouring herself a glass she heard approaching footsteps; voluntarily leaning into the figure behind her as his arms pulled her in, tilting her head to allow his soft kisses on her neck. 

“Hmmm… looks like things went well?”

Sansa sipped at the tart wine, choosing not to answer the man behind her. She felt his hands gently tugging at the hem of her dress, running his fingers along the black silk. Setting down the glass Sansa turned to face him, her hands gracelessly hitting his chest, leaning in to rest her head in the crook of his neck. She instinctively kicked off her heels, allowing their heights to match. 

“I’m so tired, Petyr.” Her voice was quiet and low —

“Take me to bed please.” 

He reached for the now discarded glass, as he placed another deep kiss on her lips. He spoke against her skin with a smile, 

“Then I’ll just finish —“ 

Dragging the glass out his reach, she grabbed the stemware, Sansas head shifting to finish the wine. In two gulps it was empty.

“I needed it more than you.” 

He gave her bum two pats in response and with a playful push maneuvered her towards the staircase. With each step he tugged at the zipper of her gown. At the top of the steps with a firm tug the dress was fully unzipped. Sansa sighed in relief. 

“Finally - eight hours in this thing” 

“You looked beautiful, formidable - I saw the tweets.” 

“Ha. I don’t think campaign fashion lends itself to such sentiments Petyr.” 

They had reached his room, her feet feeling the soft woolen carpet - her body aching for the plush white bed only steps away. Sansa allowed Petyr to push the silken fabric off her shoulders giving it a final push off of her hips. She watched him hang up the dress as she sat herself on the bed. With a gentle shove, Sansas back was against linen, feeling the weight of his body upon her. She sighed, soft kisses on her abdomen, running up her naked chest. Wrapping her arms around him she allowed Petyr to continue, her eyes closing and fluttering at the contact. 

“I would disagree” the words were muffled against her skin.

“You looked strong, in-charge, sexy.” 

She eyed him, Petyr continuing his ministrations.

“Don’t be pandering, please - I’m so tired” 

She rested her hand on his cheek, their eyes meeting. 

“Were you asleep, did I wake you?” 

“No, I was just in the office - watching the news, answering emails.”

His shirt was rumpled, the top buttons undone. No belt on his trousers. He must have dosed off on the couch. 

Sansa kissed him in response. She allowed her body to relax, sinking deeper into the soft duvet, feeling his hand running down her figure; her own fingers weaving themselves though his hair, naked skin pressing against his clothed chest. He moved to remove her underwear, but she stopped him. 

“Lets just sleep for now Petyr.” Her voice was a husky whisper. 

He gave her a deep kiss - soaking in her warmth, drinking in her scent. Pulling apart the sheets she settled in, arching her back in a stretch while she watched him remove his clothing. Slipping in beside her, he pulled her close, her long limbs wrapping around him.

“What time is the alarm set?” 

“6am.” 

“Perfect, we have our first meeting at 7:30 and I can get in a quick run.” 

Her voice was growing quiet. She rested one hand on his scarred chest, the other outstretched on his pillow, twirling some of his hair between her fingers. His right hand came to rest in the crook of her hip after pulling her even closer.

“Mmhmmm, a real late start.” 

She had already dozed off, her soft breathing sedating him.


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get a further peak into the relationship dynamics of Petyr and Sansa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I am not telling this story in any linear way at all, it keeps it interesting for me (as the writer) and for you - hopefully it doesn’t get too confusing. 
> 
> Thank you again for reading and your comments are appreciated! 
> 
> ❤️ ~Bbanimal

_One Month, twenty-nine days until the election…_

Sansa had opened her eyes, slowly adjusting to the darkness. Her breathing was heavy, she could feel her body vibrating. Turning on her side, she eyed the body next to her; his face relaxed, body stretched out. Sitting up on her right elbow she looked over his shoulders at the clock on the side table - 4:05am. Her left hand fell back onto the pillow, the other running up and down her middle; she could still feel that warmth, the thrumming. Inching towards the sleeping figure, she slowly began kissing his shoulder, moving to his neck, ending with his lips. Responding to her touch, he slowly woke, welcoming the intimacy. His right arm draping over her form; hand moving to grip her behind, pressing her even closer, his body responding. Their movements were languid, but deliberate and becoming more forceful. He pulled Sansa close, settling her underneath him. She could feel his arousal and in kind, arched her back, allowing her hips to press against his hardness. Petyr could smell her fragrance and arousal, feel her soft warm skin. Her hand shifted between his skin and boxers to grip his cock. At the end of a deep kiss giving a breathy moan, and with another she bit at his lower lip. His hand rested on the back of her neck, pulling her to him with a firm stroke of his cock. 

“Let me fuck you.”

Her voice was quiet and she did not wait for a response, lightly pushing him away and straddling his hips, her fingers already stripping away their remaining clothing. 

Once connected she moved slowly and rhythmically, Petyr meeting her movements. Minds fully awake, but their bodies slow. With each roll of her hips she tilted her head back, eyes closed, savoring the building of her orgasm. He lifted himself up on his right elbow; the other hand firmly gripping her hips, the fingernails digging into her skin. He watched her move - how she rode his cock, taking in the sound and sight of him entering her. Their movements became harder and deeper, and with a gasp her movements seem to slow down.

“I’m going to cum Petyr.” 

He kept up the rhythm, watching her face and feeling her cunt contract around him, trying his hardest not to finish himself - not yet. Sansas chest heaving, hair mussed, and her brow damp with sweat. Finally he felt her slowing, the final hard thrusts. Her eyes shutting, her moaning morphing into guttural whispers. 

“That’s right, baby - cum for me. Your pretty little cunt, it feels so fucking good.” 

His own head fell back as she came, Sansa shaking and panting. They both lay still for a moment, Petyr massaging her hips and thighs. Kissing her head, he flipped her onto her back; lifting her right thigh onto his shoulder, his own rhythm taking over. He pressed her hand into the bed, watching her come-down and the second wave building as he worked towards his own completion. 

“Fuck. Yes. So. Fucking good.” 

His own voice faultured, watching her flushed face, her eyes meeting his own. The grip on her hand tightened, and as she had done only minutes prior, his movements grew more forceful egged on by her gasps and moans until he reached his own climax. With a final thrust he leaned forward, their arms encircling the other, culminating with a deep kiss. He rested his head on her chest, both listening to their slowing breaths, allowing their endorphins to settle. Finally pulling apart Petyr slipped off the bed, only to return moments later with a soft damp cloth. He gave her a slight nudge, parting her legs and running the cloth over her warm skin, kissing the clean flesh. Sansa gave a soft sigh, allowing herself the machinations of him gently wiping away the sheen of their lovemaking. He slid up her figure, their lips meeting.

“What time is it?” 

“It’s still so early, can fall back asleep.” 

A sigh matched his whispering. 

“Thank god.”

She rested her head on his chest, his arm wrapping around her. Breath quieting and slowing, both lulling the other to sleep. 

* * *

In Petyrs En Suite, steam hung in the air. Sansa was washing her hair in the shower, warm water running down her figure. Minutes earlier, she had risen with the beeping of the alarm, giving a sideways glance to the indent in the bed beside her. Petyr was most likely already up and working in his office.

Stepping out of the glass stall, she gave her hair a quick shake and twist. Her toiletries were already neatly arranged on the marble counter, in the other room her running clothes had been draped over a chair; Sansa was always prepared. 

Walking down the stairs she saw a tall glass of water sitting on the counter, next to a porcelain mug; waiting for her. As she drank from both vessels, her ears pricked at the hum of the morning news and the quiet shuffling of the next room, her eyes glued to her phone as she scrolled through emails. 

The sound from the television grew louder as she approached; Sansa noting her dress, along with her clutch from the night prior, had been placed in a garment bag and was hanging from the doorway, a notecard with her address neatly pinned to its front. Petyr was on a phone call, his voice low and stern - though relaxed. He smiled at her approach, taking her in his arms and with a few more words he hung up the phone. Placing it on the desk he kissed her, gripping her harder. 

“Sleep well?” 

“Always - though still exhausted; but, it’s expected.” 

“Mmhmmm.” 

“Anyway, I’m off.” 

“Of course, off to the races.” 

She shrugged with a smile. 

“Good-bye Petyr.”

“I’ll message you later.” 

Giving her behind a pat, she turned and gave him one more deep kiss. 

He watched her walk out the doorway, ystanding still while he listened to her footsteps, ending with the opening and closing of the front door. 

* * *

_Five months twenty-one days until the election..._

They had been in the same room on several occasions - The first round of debates, at the reopening of the cities modern art museum, and in the capitol building. At the first televised debate they had spoken behind the stage curtain. The tone initially had been polite, professional, and even competitive; but quickly grew flirtatious. The museum opening had presented another opportunity for them to lock eyes and speak in coded come-ons; but the next morning Sansa had been certain alcohol was to blame that night. 

But their meeting in the capitol building would assuage that theory. The conversation polite but quickly veering, with Petyr reflexively clearing his throat, his words smooth; 

“We keep running into each other, not purposefully of course - I do enjoy it. Let me take you to dinner. I would like it to be intentional at some point.” Sansa had kept her face vague, though the synapses in her brain seemed to simultaneously go off with his offer. 

“Petyr, you know we shouldn’t it seems so… unethical, the election—“ 

“Fuck the election.” 

Sansa shook her head; 

“You _know_ it’s not just a paycheck for me. And, you know it could- _would ruin me. You know that_.” 

She hadn’t seemed to notice how close they stood and took a step back, straightening her shoulders. 

“Of course.” 

His tone gave no sense of defeat. 

Sansa had looked both ways down the empty hallway.

“You know it would, the optics of it all… _another time Petyr._ ” Her voice had grown, quieter, warmer. She stepped forward, leaning into his form placing a kiss to his jawline. 

“I have to go — goodbye.” 

Sansa was sure he had reached out to grab her but she had already turned and walked away; though she had caught the smirk on his face. 

* * *

Sansa finally gave in - at the voting rights forum. Both candidates, in a show of civic unity and to mend past indiscretions, had decided to come together on the neutral cause of registering new voters. _Civic and youth engagement was always a campaign ringer_. Truthfully, it was an enjoyable evening. Most partisan bullshit had been pushed aside with dancing, speeches, and a free bar (it wouldn’t have been a proper political event without). Team members from both candidates were freely mingling; the press threaded throughout the crowd taking photos and canned statements. Everyone appeared to be taking liberties. Sansa was enjoying herself, dancing and laughing but purposefully choosing sobriety. She wouldn’t allow herself to get too carried away; she had noticed Baelishs’ attention, and was discreetly responding despite all common sense. They were dancing, talking in the others ear, and frequently touching. Politely chatting with an old associate hours into the evening she noticed Petyr giving her a quick wave. He waited feet away while she wrapped up her conversation, politely dismissing herself and meeting him with a raised eyebrow.

“One last dance”

She relaxed her shoulders, laughed and acquiesced, letting him lead her out to the center of the dance floor. 

“You’ve done good _sweetling_.”

She could feel her heart begin to race, the hand on her waist pulling her in. Sansa gave him a knowing stare; they continued dancing.

“Could I say something?” 

“I think you would speak regardless if I gave permission.”

He leaned in with a smile.

“You look beautiful this evening, I don’t think I’m mistaken in telling you.” 

She kept her face neutral, feigning naïveté. 

“It depends, what do you like me to do with that complement Petyr?”

Sansa had noticed earlier that he liked hearing his name on her lips, always so attentive when it rolled off of her tongue. 

“I could think of a few.”

She lightly smacked him, leaving her hand on his warm chest. She could feel his eyes on her, the warmth of his hand, the smell of his cologne. They continued to dance; their eyes locked as she rolled over the insinuation in her mind until coming to a decision. Sansa had to admit she wanted him _and_ loved being wanted. All Sansa could do is give the tiniest of nods, his grip increasing with her consent. No one seemed to be paying them any attention, too consumed with their own affairs. His eyes pointed to a long hallway and with a quick tug, they wove through the crowd past the tables and caterers into the dark hallway. 

The sounds of the music and chatter grew quiet with each step. Finally they were met with silence, stopping at the door of a storage room - used as a changing room earlier. With a quick jiggle the door opened, both slipping into the dim room and locking the door behind them. Petyr pulled her close, both hands finally wrapping around her tiny waist. Both silently stared at the other, Sansa trying to keep her breathing under control. His voice was low and quiet. 

“Do you know what you're doing?”

“I think so.” 

With that he pulled her closer, his hand resting on her cheek. His eyes darkened when she didn’t pull away, Sansa held her ground and whispered;

“If you want to kiss me, please do i-” 

Petyrs kiss sought to consume her but she eagerly reciprocated. All of the tension and attraction she had felt seemed to spill out; the energy nearly fanatical between them. Sansa felt her back pressing against the concrete wall. Her hands reached for the base of his neck, tugging at his hair, her legs parting, and allowing him to push his groin against her - removing any remaining space between them. 

With his hands tugging at the hem of her skirt Sansa lightly pushed him away, staring into his eyes. All color was gone, only pupils. She was sure it mirrored her own expression. 

“Do you just want to debase me tonight, ruin me Petyr?” 

“God no. I want you, I’ve _wanted you_. You know that. —

We can stop.”

“No.” 

Again, she pressed herself against his firm body, himself watching every minute action. He allowed himself to pull her to him. Sansa closed her eyes and swallowed;

“Just this once, get it out of our systems.” 

Petyr nodded with a lascivious smirk.

Leaning in, she whispered;

“Fuck me please.” 

It all seemed to happen so quickly. Himself digging into his pockets, pulling out and ripping at a condom wrapper. They continued their ministrations, the kissing. Petyrs breath becoming uneven with her hand gripping him; himself still as he watched her slide it down his firm pink cock. He pulled at the hem of her dress, exposing her creamy thighs, and pulling her silken underwear down her legs. He could feel her naked skin against his own, a hitch in their collective breath as Sansa guided him inside of her. Pressed against the wall, Sansa demanded he fuck her harder. With the continued presses, a litany of filth spilled from her mouth, Petyr eagerly responding. Her moans grew quiet with his own lips against hers. Sansa desperately trying to claw at his back, finally grabbing onto his lapels with a hard thrust.

Petyr smiled with the sound of her guttural moan through his fingers, Sansa going limp against him with a shudder. God, how he had wanted her to come, to feel her come undone by his hand. He had relished her heel digging into his thighs, the smeared lipstick on his face and the smell of arousal filling the small space.

Upon completion she was gently set on the ground. Petyr pulled up his trousers; Sansa straightened her dress, reaching up to smooth her hair. He sat himself in a nearby folding chair, watching her movements. As their eyes met, he handed her a handkerchief to wipe the fluids from her body. Giving it back he wrapped the spent prophylactic in the fabric, tucking it into a pocket. Petyr reached out his hand and pulled her into his lap and Sansa complied; truthfully, it felt nice listening to his heartbeat settle, smelling the cologne against his warm skin. They sat in silence, trying to listen for any noises in the hallway and when they were sure they would not be caught they stood with an appraising eye and a nod. Petyr pulled Sansa to him in one last deep kiss before she reapplied her lipstick.

“Goodbye and Good luck Petyr.” 

“Good luck.” 

Releasing her he moved toward the door, quietly turning the handle and looking down the hallway. With a nod Sansa straightened her shoulders giving him a kiss on the cheek. Petyr had almost assumed she would look back as she walked away, but Sansa did no such thing. 

In the coming weeks, it would be made painfully apparent “it” wouldn’t be out of their systems, any time soon. 


End file.
